I Remember
by N7Dragon5
Summary: Sometimes it hurts to remember things so clearly, especially when you know you can't go back. Warden-Commander Amell reminisces on things that seemed to happen ages ago, even if it causes a little pain. Currently rated K because I'm not done. My first multi-chap, woo! And she still can't pick genres! Please review!
1. New Friends

"'Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.' Thus spoke the Prophetess…" I barely listened to the teacher drone on about how magic was a blessing, yet also a curse. How we were useful, but also deadly. I was too busy trying to keep warm. My nose and ears had gone numb and it hurt to bend my fingers, but I had to move the quill around to at least make it look like I was paying attention. For only five, I was at least a little clever. Fresh off the boat from the docks, I was still only in my common clothing, having not yet received my robes, and the open shoulders were making it that much harder to ignore the fact that I could see my breath when I exhaled. For some of the other kids who had been here for at least a day, it was slightly warmer. The robes were thick enough to protect from the freezing temperatures of the tower better than the one rather underdressed, lonely newcomer in the back of the room, idly doodling in her notebook. I found myself drawing instead of note taking, internally laughing as I depicted myself with wings, flying away from the tower, and noticed one of the boys next to me subtly watching.

"They say it gets better after a while, you know," he whispered, trying to keep his voice low to avoid being noticed by our mage lecturer. I didn't bother to meet his eyes. I'd seen him around as I was rushed about to prepare for my first day in the tower and its classrooms. He was about my age, perhaps a year older, and I knew he'd been at the tower longer than I had. "Rubbish, I say. A gilded cage is what this place is." I looked up at him, thankful that the heads of those in front of me kept me hidden from the teacher. His blonde hair was tied up a little messily, and his brown eyes showed a hint of curiosity and a bit of charm that was difficult to miss.

"Why are you talking to me?" I asked unintentionally coolly. It was an honest question, though I fear I may have sounded…a little stuck up. The boy merely laughed but didn't catch anyone's attention.

"Why not? You're doing what I do most every day. I figure we have a thing or two in common." He slid his book to the left of his desk in a way that said he wanted me to see what was in it. He'd actually written some notes, but only parts of the lessons on the schools of Spirit and Creation, and in the margins he'd doodled a picture of templars being mauled by a tiger. There was an arrow pointing to the tiger's head, and above the arrow was the name "Ser Pounce-A-Lot". I clamped my mouth shut with my hand and got away with a smile as I did my best not to laugh out loud upon reading the name. "Cute, huh?"

"You two!" the teacher called, pointing his staff at us. "Quit your chatter! This is important, this is history. History! Not just the history of the mages but _your_ history as well! This is _vital!_" He seemed much more interested in the subject than anyone else in the room did. The boy smirked a little as I shrunk down in shame, already breaking the rules on my first day, and then he returned to his doodling. I forced myself to pay attention to the lessons, rubbing my arms to stay the slightest bit warm and doing my best not to laugh when the name "Ser Pounce-A-Lot" appeared in my head.

A few hours later, all of the apprentices were called into a large room. I didn't really get the purpose behind the whole place, though I wrongly assumed it was a chapel due to the large statue of the Prophetess Andraste over on the far wall. Countless long tables were neatly aligned in rows throughout the room, and most of the Circle's inhabitants that sat at them were apprentices who talked and laughed while eating apples or other things considered healthy to mages. A long line of mages went behind a wall and came out through an opening, and those who removed themselves from the space returned with food of some kind. As I stood there gawking at the size of the room and the number of mages within it, a templar would put his hand on my back and push me further into the line.

"I wondered when I'd see you again," said a cocky voice behind me. I turned around to find the boy from earlier smiling at me, his hair half down and soaking wet. I furrowed my brow at the sight of him.

"What did you _do_?" I asked. He laughed a little and shrugged.

"Tried to see what this 'outside' thing was."

"That tells me nothing."

"He bolted out the door and tried to make a swim for it," an older girl, still an apprentice judging by her blue and purple robes, behind him added with a ring of respect in her voice. The boy looked at me and nodded proudly.

"Pretty much. The rumors about evil nasties in the water aren't true from what little time I spent in there, by the way." The older girl smacked him upside the head, then wiped her wet hand on her robes.

"You're quite lucky they didn't kill you, boy," she said. "If you weren't so young they'd mark you maleficar. They'd hunt you down, they would."

"Better that then chance them making me Tranquil or something." He shivered at the thought. Nobody seemed to resist the unnerving manner of the Tranquil mages. One of the older apprentices, maybe about five or six years older than I was, feared the Harrowing so much he decided he'd rather become a shell filled with nothingness. _Owain, I believe,_ I thought. He'd been tossed into the stockroom with the other Tranquil to work there. I remember thinking, "What awful lives they must lead, being removed from everything they once were". I haven't changed my opinion on the matter.

I turned my attention back on the line, and within a few minutes I was seated at one of the tables in the corner in the room, isolated from everyone else. I'd been given an apple, some carrots, and a juice of some kind that I decided to ignore due to its faint glow. I took small bites out of the apple and chewed slowly, wanting to take my time before I had to move amongst the crowds. It wasn't long before I wasn't alone anymore.

"You're always alone. You really should make some friends or something." I tore my attention away from my apple and looked into big brown eyes that looked down on me with amusement. He slid himself into the seat across from me and folded his hands on the table. "Part of making friends is knowing the other person's name. What's yours?" I was taken aback by the question. Nobody had really cared about me or who I was up until then.

"Caelah Amell," I said shyly, looking down at my half-eaten apple again. I looked back at him for a split second, just long enough to see him blink with slight surprise.

"He receives a last name as well!" he cried, throwing his hands in the air. I shrunk down again, trying to hide from any potential attention. He noticed my action and tapped my arm, asking an unspoken question. _Will you look at me?_ I put my head up and did as he silently asked, and he smiled. "You can call me Anders." I stared at his face for a few seconds, replaying the name over and over in my head. It was my way of remembering who was who.

"Anders," I repeated. I cleared my throat. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Even though we actually met a few hours ago," he joked. He saw my expression change into one of a little girl who thought herself stupid, and frowned a little as he did his best to fix it. "But still, it's a pleasure." He extended his hand, and had to wave it a few times to get the message across, and I shook it. "New friends?" His smile returned as he put his hand into his robe and removed his own apple.

"Okay." I cleared my throat again, realizing what he actually wanted me to say. "New friends."


	2. Try Again

As a girl, about ten if I remember correctly, I used to love the weekly exercises we did at the tower. The day was always perfectly chosen to be the warmest, a refreshing change from the horridly cold inside of the tower, and there would always be the slightest breeze blowing. I loved the warmth of the sun overhead and the coolness of when I put a finger into great Lake Calenhad. Knowing the greatness of the name the lake held made touching its waters grant a sense of importance.

The templar guards willing to, Maker forbid, go _outside_ was very little, so the templars sent to watch us were usually only there as punishment. The lack of watchers made many of the kids a bit reckless at times, causing someone to be electrocuted or find his hair on fire. One of the few templars that had come willingly spent his time playing with us children in the water, splashing in the lake with them and sometimes offering interest in a child's ability to freeze some of the water placed into a hole they'd dug in the dirt. He usually steered clear of me. An apprentice for five years now, everyone knew I kept to myself, and everyone knew I only talked to those who talked to me.

No one ever talked to me.

At times I'd be accidentally kicked or stepped on by some of the kids as they ran along the edge of the water, trying to push each other in. No one bothered to apologize on anyone's behalf. That'd be petty_._ The only bit of help I received was the willing templar scoffing at them, then returning to watch some redheaded boy yell at another apprentice for getting mud on his robe. I simply sat at the edge of the lake hugging my knees, watching the ripples as I dragged a stick along the lake's surface.

"You are so _boring!_" said someone behind me. I knew who it was immediately. "Look at you, sitting here all alone, literally dragging your little stick around!"

"Hello to you too, Anders." I didn't look at him, though I wasn't angry at anything in particular. I simply watched as the ripples kept moving even when the stick stopped, then I willed them into becoming smooth again. I could've done much more, but we weren't actually allowed to do any kind of magic unless it was for our studies. Anders sat down next to me with his legs crossed and his hands in his lap, giving me a look of annoyance.

"Go do something!" he demanded. I looked at him and tilted my head to the side, a few strands of red falling over my eyes.

"Do what, exactly? What would please His Highness?" I jested. He laughed a little and I straightened my head, removing the hair from my eyes.

"See, that's what I want. Right there. Joke like that to some of the others, they'll love you in no time."

"But I won't love them, Anders. Friendships take two." Anders sighed and rolled his eyes, then turned his attention to the water.

"You ever wonder what it's like out there?" His voice sounded wistful, and his eyes stared longingly out to the horizon. He shifted a little and put one knee up, resting his arm on the raised leg while the other stayed on the ground. I followed his gaze toward the Lake Calenhad docks, wondering what it must feel like to walk under the great arch that separated the docks from the rest of Ferelden. Anders knew his own answer to the question. He'd tried to escape twice now, the first five years ago, and the second a couple weeks ago when he tied a whole lot of sheets together and climbed out of a window. I remember how sad I was when I heard he'd left, believing I no longer had a friend in this prettied-up prison. Luckily for me, he was caught again only a few days later. No one really knew how he survived, a ten-year-old mage on the loose all alone, but I had respected him more for it. I didn't know how many more times he could try to leave and survive, but I still thought I would be the lesser if he succeeded.

"I don't know any mage that doesn't."

"You don't know any mage, period." He looked at me again and smiled in a way he only did while teasing me. "You know, you could try coming with me if I ever left again. You're capable enough, I think." I laughed.

"I guess that means I'll get caught with you, too?" He stuck his tongue out at me and looked at the docks again.

"How much do you want to bet I can steal that boat and go all the way across?" His eyes, directed at me once again, glinted mischievously.

"Fifty sovereigns say you can't"

"Your lack of fifty sovereigns says I can." With that, he sprang up from his spot and bolted towards the docks as fast as he could. He pushed the guard near the boat into the water and hopped into the vessel, using the oars inside the ship to propel it as fast as he could possibly make it. For a ten-year-old, that wasn't very fast at all. Within minutes some of the enchanters came bursting out of the doors and cast a spell simultaneously. The boat stopped where it was, then slowly started coming back. Anders paddled and paddled, but his strength was no match for the enchanters' magic. When he reached the docks again, he was immediately apprehended by a couple of templars and picked up by the arms, half walking and half dragging himself where ever the templars moved him. "Pay you later?" he asked with a grin.

"I'll hold you to that." And thus ended Anders' third escape attempt. I dare say I'm the slightest bit proud to have been there, and to know that it was because of a stupid bet.


	3. Left Alone

The corridors seemed a lot emptier than before. The lights seemed dimmer, the doors bigger, my books heavier. Everything was still pretty damn cold, though. Anders' absence made the people turn into golems in my eyes, no one noteworthy. Anders had introduced me to a buddy of his, a man about a year older than I was named Jowan, a long while back, and we hung around each other often. I liked him well enough, but I didn't feel the same level of closeness with him than with Anders. My only issue with him was he kept me out of trouble. I _liked_ the trouble, and I told him that constantly, but he always told me to downplay the mischief "for now", as if he was planning something. I didn't want to hear it.

Anders had tried to escape again a few weeks ago, and the First Enchanter got pretty sick of it. To teach him a lesson without marking him maleficar, Irving threw Anders into solitary confinement with a year's sentence. It was odd not having anyone to follow or be followed by, the lack of constant chatter or a second pair of footsteps beside me making the entire tower seem much quieter. I had turned back into the person I was upon first arriving at the Circle, the same lone wolf that everyone seemed content to avoid…and it _sucked._

"You miss him, huh?" The sudden voice behind me made me start, and I almost dropped my books as I doubled over slightly in surprise. As I clutched at my chest and struggled to keep hold of my things, I turned my head and saw Jowan standing behind me.

"Maker's breath, man, you always do that!" He rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

"Sorry." I straightened myself and spun around to face him. His hair was as messy as it'd always been, always falling a little over his eyes, and I found myself wondering how he ever saw anything. His apprentice robes appeared as if they hadn't been properly tended to in days, and his hands played with the folds of the garment constantly, always making him look nervous. I remembered his question and sighed in response, then glared at him with a renewed look of defiance.

"Yes, I miss him. I miss being able to laugh about stuff that would make other mages flinch, I miss constantly wondering what he'll do next to escape, and for Andraste's sake, I miss knowing when he's behind me!" My voice was harsher than I had actually intended, but Jowan didn't seem to take any real offense.

"I'm…sorry," he repeated, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just wanted to know if you were all right. You two were close." I gestured for him to walk with me down the hall.

"It's not like he's dead or anything. He'll be back."

"Yes, a year from now. I want your head clear." We didn't even get to the next door of the hall before I stopped and turned on him.

"My head clear? For what?" He rubbed his neck again and leaned against the wall.

"I've heard…rumors among the apprentices, and whispers among the templars watching the halls." I folded my arms and narrowed my eyes at him.

"You believe what the templars, who screw with our heads for a _living_, tell the apprentices, who are scared shitless of this entire place? Jowan, think about how stupid that sounds."

"I thought you'd be suspicious, but it's what they're talking about that's got me nervous. They think they're going to take you on your Harrowing soon." I froze. The Harrowing, the rite of passage out of apprenticeship and into real, true acceptance into the Circle of Magi. As glorious as it may have sounded in my head, I didn't feel honored; I felt terrified. There were apprentices who never returned from the ever-dark and ominous Harrowing Chamber, and the templars never spoke of those who disappeared, their only hint being a shadow crossing their faces. What if I was the next one to be asked of, to be gone for the rest of everyone else's life? I almost smiled thinking about what Anders would do. He'd tear the place up brick by brick searching for answers. _True friends._

"You…you're sure about this?" I asked, getting back on track, though I knew the answer already.

"Would I tell you if I wasn't sure?" Jowan pushed himself off the wall and crossed his arms, giving me a serious but sad look. I started to say something, then decided against it and shook my head. I didn't know how else to respond, other than asking over and over, time and time again if he was sure. Jowan never joked too often anyway, and, especially regarding this, I doubted he would start now. The only thing I could say was "Maker's breath…"

I knew how it worked. They take you by surprise by whisking you away from your bed in the middle of the night, warning-free, and toss you in the Harrowing Chamber. No one but the actual mages knew what happened after that. Well, the Tranquil knew, too, but they refused to breathe a word of it, unsurprisingly. All of the secrecy made my stomach turn.

"Are you all right? You look pale." Jowan's voice interrupted my thoughts, and it was my turn to lean against the wall. I blinked a few times and struggled to keep hold of my books.

"Yes. Yes, I'm all right. Just…shaken." _That's an understatement,_ Anders would have said. He never talked about his Harrowing. Not because he wasn't allowed to, but because he didn't want to talk about it. In truth, I wasn't even sure if he'd ever actually taken the Harrowing yet. He was too evasive whenever I brought it up for me to actually find out for sure. I wanted to know, of course, but he just had a way of using his charm or his wit—maybe both—to make someone change the subject. I'd tried it, myself, but he would always tell me I needed a little more work at it right after he ferreted the information out of me and laughed. If he hadn't taken the test yet, however, he wouldn't be living in the mages' quarters with me; if, of course, I passed. I wasn't sure where exactly he lived, either. He sort of spent his time wandering or following me, and I often grew tired before he did. So, if we were on separate floors of the tower, it would be like his sentence would never end. I'd likely never see him again.

"Well, that one fellow, Niall, he made it out all right. I doubt you'd be any different. You're strong, Caelah. You know it." I waved him off and gave a short and slightly joking "bah", and he offered a small smile. It was seeing that smile that made me think that whoever he'd told me about, the girl he'd met a few months ago that I was starting to think didn't exist, was pretty damn lucky. Mind you, I only slightly felt the tiniest touch of jealousy. Jowan was a friend, and though he didn't quite measure up to Anders, we were still close. Just not _as_ close. The little things and the really major ones he'd tell me, such as the fact that the templars were pretty much just going to throw me to the wolves, made us closer. He'd tell me of an apprentice who wouldn't bathe due to the templars' constant watching—which they didn't actually do for the sake of minor privacies—and I'd give him updates on the templars and priests' statuses. We'd formed our own little spy group, and it seemed to brighten up tower life.

With the Harrowing coming up, my Harrowing, I wasn't allowed to think happy thoughts anymore. The thoughts that would involve laughter and smiles and cheers were drowned out by thoughts of demons and abominations and the cold steel of the templars' swords cutting deep into my throat as my corruption deepened. The best I could do was hope with every fiber of my being that that didn't happen, even though it would mean permanent separation from everything I had to live for as a mage. It was pointless to think about it now, though. Or, was it? I mean, they could whisk me away tonight, never to be seen again.

Thankfully, they didn't. Jowan had left me with a few words of slightly joking wisdom and an assurance that I was going to be fine, and I played out the rest of the week normally, only working twice as hard in spell practices, studies, and creation of mental resistances to block out demons as best as I could. I didn't know if everything I did was going to help, but I didn't see anyone else coming up with any bright ideas. I did what I could to prepare for every possible situation, ignoring the sideways looks the others gave me as they wondered what in the Maker's name I was doing, what I was trying so hard for. The answer was simple: Survival. By the end of the week, I was exhausted and worn out, barely able to call on the mana inside me to cast even the smallest of spells, and my eyes felt so small from reading all the time, the many words on the pages frying my brain to a crisp. But I knew I'd learned everything I possibly could, so I waited, and waited, and waited, though no templars appeared in the middle of the night, the First Enchanter's voice didn't wake me up to tell me it was time.

Until, a few days after I had decided Jowan had been wrong and all of my preparation was for naught, the templars' gauntlets shook me awake and dragged me to the Harrowing Chamber.


End file.
